“My Soul Magnifies the Lord”: A Life Shaped by the Rosary 

I was born and raised in a tiny, remote country, in a Catholic family where Sunday Mass was a way of life. My earliest memories of faith are woven with the quiet devotion of my father, who always arrived an hour early at mass to pray his Rosary. That image remains one of the most defining memories of my childhood. 

I was still quite young when I first reflected on the first apparition and the Rosary, while watching the Fatima movie. I was struck by how the apparitions were entrusted to children; simple, receptive, open. In many ways, my own devotion began like that: as a child who did not analyse or question, but simply prayed because the adults around me did. The Rosary was not something I understood but something I simply absorbed. 

During May and October, families in our neighbourhood opened their homes each evening. I was around seven when with a group of children known as ‘Action Catholique Enfance’, we would go from house to house praying the Rosary together. I did not think deeply about theology then. I knew only that we gathered, we prayed, and were offered biscuits and juice afterwards. Something about it all felt peaceful and safe. The repetition of the Hail Mary’s was steady and comforting. The adults prayed with devotion; we children followed joyfully. 

When I moved to England in my twenties, the familiar rhythm of my childhood faith disappeared. Life became full with studies, work, marriage, children, responsibilities. The Rosary was no longer a neighbourhood devotion; it became a personal anchor. And it was then that I began being questioned on why pray the Rosary and why not go directly to God? 

Scripture does not command the Rosary as it does the ‘Our Father’, yet I began to see how deeply rooted in Scripture it truly is. The words of the Hail Mary come directly from Luke’s Gospel: “Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with thee” (Luke 1:28). “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb” (Luke 1:42). And then Mary’s own words: “My soul magnifies the Lord” (Luke 1:46). Those words slowly became the key for me. 

Mary’s “yes” at the Annunciation is well known. Her obedience opens the way for Christ to enter the world. But her “yes” does not end there. It becomes the posture of her entire life, a continual magnifying of God. Mary does not magnify herself. She magnifies the Lord. 

As a child, I thought the Rosary was mostly about repeating Mary’s name. As an adult, I began to see that the Rosary echoes her Magnificat. Each Hail Mary is not a spotlight on her, it is an invitation to stand where she stands, looking toward Christ and allowing Him to become clearer in our sight. 

A magnifying glass does not create the object it enlarges. It does not replace it. It simply helps us see what is already there, closer and clearer. Mary’s role is just that. Through her humility and her “yes,” she brings Christ close to us. 

This insight changed the way I understood the Wedding at Cana. The celebration is joyful until the wine runs out.

It is Mary who notices. She brings the need to Jesus: “They have no wine.” When Jesus calls her “Woman,” I once found it surprising. Over time, I came to see its depth. He is not dismissing her. Jesus is revealing something greater. In Genesis, the first woman participates in humanity’s fall. Mary, the new Eve, through her obedience, participates in its restoration.

Her “yes” reverses the “no.” Yet even at Cana, she does not centre herself.

She simply tells the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” That is the Magnificat lived out in action. 

The Rosary began to change for me when I realised it is not a chain of repetitions but a rhythm of magnification. The words create space. They quiet my mind. They allow the mysteries of Christ’s life, the Annunciation, the Nativity, the Mission, the Passion, the Resurrection to unfold gently in my heart. What once felt long to me as a child now feels steady. The repetition allows for contemplation. And in that space, Christ grows clearer and closer. 

I began to see that the Rosary is a journey through the life of Jesus, seen through the eyes of the one who first said “yes.” Mary is present not to take His place, but to remain faithful to her first words: to magnify the Lord. Even at the Cross, where Jesus says, “Behold your Mother”, I now hear something personal. If Mary magnifies the Lord, then receiving her, means learning from her how to live with and through her Son. 

As life grew more complex with raising children, navigating responsibilities, facing uncertainties, my prayer became simpler. I no longer analyse each word; I rest in them. My daily Rosary becomes my place of surrender. It reminds me that faith is not about achieving perfection but about consenting to God’s work. Mary’s greatness lies not in extraordinary achievements, but in her continual “yes.” In joy, confusion, and suffering, she magnifies the Lord. 

The words of Thérèse of Lisieux resonate deeply with me: “Even if I had committed every crime possible, I would still have confidence. I would throw myself into the arms of my Saviour.” The Rosary becomes my way of doing just that; placing myself in the arms of Christ, guided by Mary, the one who first trusted completely. 

As a child, I prayed the Rosary because everyone around me did. As a young adult, I prayed it in times of need. I now pray it daily because I understand, at least in part, what it truly is: a way of learning from Mary how to magnify the Lord, of making space for Christ to live in me, of saying “yes.” 

The Rosary has grown with me. And through it all, I return to Mary’s simple words: “My soul magnifies the Lord.”

Our daily miracle and Victory… 

J. Cinta